Because Caskets are Overrated
by Abe Lincoln Lover
Summary: He'd been doing a lot of staring, lately.


**AN: Because everyone I know is pretty much getting cancer these days, or dying, or sometimes even both. sry guys i rly tried 2 make this 1 funny**

Kaito had always teased Aoko about her chest size being "too small."

Now it was even smaller.

Well, _everything_ about her was smaller now, anyway.

Kaito knelt on the cushion in front of the table. Tried to ignore the perfumes, and cool air, that was absolutely everywhere. Tried to ignore the smell, the sound, the feeling of _death_ that wouldn't go away. He stared headlong at the urn, ignored the bright, cheery pictures that surrounded him and just stared.

Stared.

There was an inscription on the urn, saying Aoko's name, her birth date, her death date, and nothing else. No cute pictures or doodles, like the ones she would draw on her notes in math class and then show Kaito when Sensei wasn't looking. Nothing else. Just her name, and a couple dates, and nothing else.

He didn't know why Inspector Nakamori was allowing him to attend the wake, or even the funeral, but he didn't ask questions because he was content with simply being there. Nobody talked to him. He was simply there. Just like he wanted. His eyes traveled over to Inspector Nakamori, who was sitting down in the front row of chairs, looking years older than he actually was, and was also just simply being there. Some people were talking, crying, whatever. But they didn't disturb the Inspector, or Kaito. Because they knew to leave them alone with their grief.

Kaito thought about the last time he spoke to Aoko.

She had been staring up at the ceiling, blank-faced and silent. For the most part. Sometimes he would get her to respond to things he was saying. Sometimes he would ask her a question ("_Aoko, do you know what day it is?_") and she would give him some acknowledgement that she was listening (a_ shake of the head_) even if she wasn't completely there (_"It's Christmas, Aoko.")._

The last time he spoke to Aoko, she didn't know what day of the week it was, or what holiday it was. She was there, just not completely there. Just like her new form, inside the urn. He blocked out the part about the urn from his mind. But they had spoken, a bit, and she would utter some words sometimes and they'd be soft, so soft, like the first snowfall of winter.

He hadn't shown up for a week after that. When he returned to the hospital to visit her again, the Inspector told him to keep quiet, that only two people were allowed in the room at a time, and that she was sleeping. When he was allowed a turn to go in, he stared at her face, ignored the pungent smell of the urine bag, ignored her heavy, heavy breathing, and just stared.

He'd been doing a lot of staring, lately.

She died the next day, they didn't tell him of what. Numerous organs had been failing her well before that, but they didn't tell him which one had been the one to do her in. She died on a Saturday, six o clock at night.

He didn't know why he hadn't been there.

But that was all in the past, now. She was sitting in front of him, ashes well before her time, sitting in front of him and encapsulated in an urn. It made him sick.

For some reason, he had always been so sure that if she were to ever die this young, it would have been from being shot at one of his heists or something. But this was beyond what he had ever expected. He could have dealt with it if she'd been shot. He would have been able to blame it on himself.

But Stage IV Breast Cancer, at the young age of 18, was never added into the equation.

It should have been expected, or even thought about. Her mother had died of the same disease, the same cancer, only when she was thirty instead of when she was eighteen. It wasn't fair, because Aoko was too young for this, and she had died without even graduating high school. Six months short of a diploma. Six months.

And Kaito hadn't been there for her, not when she was diagnosed, not during her check-ups, not when she died. He'd always been busy planning heists, taking his mind off the topic and trying to tell himself that it wasn't really _that_ bad, and that'd she'd be fine because Aoko was tough and Aoko would make it through it. He'd tell himself that she'd make a full recovery, and that things would go back to how they used to be.

When she finally died, he made sure to accompany Inspector Nakamori to the funeral home and sort out everything and anything that had to be done. When it came time to picking out her final resting place, Kaito had pointed at a nicely-styled casket that had a hint of blue in the outside metal, and full-on blue on the inside lining.

Inspector Nakamori said no to that. Said that they weren't getting a casket for her.

Kaito asked him what he meant.

Why not a coffin.

Inspector Nakamori talked about a family spot he and Aoko had found in a mausoleum on the outskirts of town, and how Aoko's mother was already in there. He said that all three of them in the Nakamori family were going to be put there, and that the space was only big enough for a couple urns, not an entire casket.

So they picked out an urn.

It was plated with rose-gold, and looked a lot different from the casket Kaito had picked. Inspector Nakamori asked if Kaito was okay with that, and he said of course he was, that it was for his daughter and he should be making the decisions, not Kaito.

So that's where they were.

Kaito stood up, and backed away. He couldn't kneel in front of her forever. There were other people who wanted to pay their respects. He returned to his seat, in the front row and five empty seats away from Inspector Nakamori.

The first visitation was almost over, Kaito knew from a glance at his watch. This was the one that all her family were going to. The second one was going to be later that night, after school had finished so that her classmates could show up. He had skipped school the whole week so he was going to both. His stomach dropped at the thought of Hakuba kneeling in front of Aoko. Not because of any jealousy, or anything. But just because... because Hakuba was a detective, and he was supposed to be used to death, and Kaito just didn't want to see him cry.

He knew Hakuba would cry. Everyone was crying. Kaito was crying.

Aoko had told him, last year before she was diagnosed, that he should drop his poker face one of these days and just let all his feelings out. He'd dismissed her comment at that time, but. Not now. Not when Inspector Nakamori sat five seats away, blank-faced as his daughter had been when they rolled her into the crematorium, and didn't even notice the wet blobs falling down his face.

Kaito closed his eyes, and his whole form was racked with sobbing. Crying was okay. He reminded himself of that. Crying was okay, because that was what people expected you to do. Life wasn't fine at the moment, so it was okay to cry. Aoko was a pile of ashes, not the funny, loud, vulgar girl she'd been last month. So it was okay to cry. He didn't have to keep it in.

He told himself that it was okay that Aoko was cremated, that it was okay that they hadn't decided to use the blue casket to bury her in. The funeral was about Aoko, and her father, and most definitely not about him. Not about Kaito, who was also Kid, who was also torn apart by the sudden death of his best friend. It wasn't about him, even though his face in the form of Kid was all over the front page of the paper, while Aoko's obituary had laid seven pages underneath.

It wasn't about him, and it was okay that there wasn't a casket, because caskets are overrated.


End file.
